November now

Now the calendar has turned about face
grudgingly I give the penultimate nod to November
scenic layers of litter in umber tones for an umbral burial
the earth moulders – inert in stone cold wormholes
though songbird throats are warming up some melodies

my own throat narrows in panic at this headlong hurtle of a pace
hands close over the marled and mindful meditation stone
smooth as toffee but without its mid-summer glimmer
the coruscation that urged me to lift it from layers of beach litter
– after all it is November now

You too have chosen the November list! And what a wonderful poem you have woven the words into, Laura. You’ve captured that November feeling and I love the lines:
‘scenic layers of litter in umber tones for an umbral burial
the earth moulders – inert in stone cold wormholes
though songbird throats are warming up some melodies’.

Laura, I’m sucked in by the o, o, o’s…the umbral tones, the nearness to the earth with the words you’ve chosen. Assonance and clarity really shine here. Thanks for participating and making something beautiful out of bare bones.

Yes, I’m definitely letting go. The “scenic layers of litter in umber tones” claim their rightful place now, and it’s OK. The snow and bright berries will come next, and then a steady, slow melting toward spring. It’s all part of the plan–as dark as November and December can be.